


A Soft Nest Ensconced in Barbed Wire

by Calyxia



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Explicit Content, Intersex Humanity AU, Mental Health Issues, Other, Unreliable Narrator, buckle up nerds i'm reinventing the wheel, welp now there's TWO moiras in this story lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 18:22:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12348081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calyxia/pseuds/Calyxia
Summary: Jack's had one simple goal for five long years: make the world a safe place for his children again.Naturally, the Powers That Be won't just let him.Some conspire to get him out of the way, while others aim to use him.One, in particular, desires to do both.





	A Soft Nest Ensconced in Barbed Wire

There wasn’t much left in the way of greenery around Arlington cemetery. Jack could still recall his 8th grade trip to DC, and even then – if his environmentally-conscious chaperone was to be believed – the trees were scarcer than in years past. All the more soldiers fell in the line of duty in the decades since his boyhood, and all the more trees had to be uprooted to make room for the honored dead.

Lucky for him, there was a nice, big shady one at a convenient distance from his funeral.

He was tempted to climb up it and get a better vantage point, but dismissed the idea on the grounds that it risked attracting unwanted attention. The charade wouldn’t last long if a wandering eye caught the “deceased” Strike Commander wrestling with a wobbly, uncooperative branch.

Of course, with his muted, generic choice of clothes, he wouldn’t read as the figurehead of Overwatch from a distance. A curious body would have to wander closer, and they very well might if they thought he was a nosy paparazzo trying to get a good shot of…

Of…

Of his grieving family.

God, Jack felt like a fucking monster for letting their hearts remain broken, if only temporarily. The maternal side of him wanted to embrace the three small bodies weeping over his grave, kiss their tears away and soothe their quaking shoulders.

It was times like this when Jack had to slam the breaks on his feelings and yield to his inner tactician.

The funeral was technically private, but _one_ media outlet had been allowed to broadcast the burial of his empty casket. Jack heard that there was a bidding war over the rights to be that one lucky broadcaster. The ratings would, no doubt, be _phenomenal_ as millions tuned in to watch his children _fucking cry_. Jack supposed the vultures with cameras were glad for that, as the stony faces of his elderly parent and younger sibling couldn’t be _nearly_ so entertaining.

The sensationalism around his death disgusted him, but was no less surprising than the sensationalism around his life.

With the world’s attention on his alleged final rest, Jack had no choice but to allow his family’s emotions to be one hundred percent authentic.

No rational person could suspect, even faintly, that he was alive. The lack of a body was good fodder for the conspiracy theorists, but it had to remain just that: mad Internet ramblings of society’s eccentrics.

People would talk if his kids weren’t weeping. Maybe some would chalk it up to discipline, or that the Reyes-Morrison brood secretly harbored resentment towards their bearer. Perhaps the gossips of the world would speculate that the sire of Rain, Miguel, and Moira poisoned their minds before he—

Jack’s brain abruptly veered off of where _that_ train of thought was careening.

The simple fact was that Jack needed as many people as possible to firmly believe that he was dead and gone for good. A grieving family that didn’t appear to know any different was the best selling point he had to fool his enemies.

All of them, especially the ones Jack didn’t know about. Yet.

All of them, especially whoever _really_ set Overwatch up to burn.

Most of all, whoever had the insidious idea to frame Gabriel for it all.

Whoever _that_ enemy was, Jack needed time and anonymity to thoroughly weed them out and eliminate them. Eliminate whoever destroyed his home and his spouse and his life—

Well, here he was again, on the train of thought that he was supposed to avoid because it enraged him because _how fucking dare they tear us apart those FUCK_ —

The powers that be wouldn’t even bury Gabriel’s equally empty casket next to his. The one missing person from this affair, Carmen – the Great-Aunt of his children and Gabriel’s only known relative to have survived the bombing of Greater Los Angeles – was occupied with fighting another front of the war of Gabriel’s defamation in the form of a legal battle with the government over where the symbol of his unrecoverable remains deserved to go. Last time Jack checked, she was losing.

While allowing himself a selfish moment to risk drowning in the mire of his angry musings, his eyes nonetheless never left his kids and the surrounding area.

The prototype visor he had snatched was adequate, for now, but he’d need to pilfer an upgraded model before he could get serious about his revenge crusade; that, and his far more important mission: protect his children.

Arlington had security. Jack was not unaware of this.

The Zurich Headquarters had had security, too.

So here he was, watching his family suffer and simultaneously vigilant for anyone who, like him, was talented or inconspicuous enough to render Arlington’s safeguards null and void.

Calling his deception a necessary evil was cliché and inaccurate. It was a necessary _good_ that just happened to be incredibly painful for everyone involved.

As if prompted by that thought, little Miguel chose that moment to bellow an anguished, grief-stricken flurry of words loud enough for Jack to hear. His fiery eleven-year-old was yelling at the reporter.

“SHUT UP SHUT UP YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING _SHUT UP_ —“

He’d make it up to them. Hopefully.

\---

Before now, Rain couldn’t say that being a light sleeper had ever served her well.

She didn’t like how her bladder could so easily disturb her, for one. Three bathroom breaks a night, on average, was really damn annoying.

It’s not like she had ever _needed_ to be “blessed” with such a trait. She wasn’t like her parents had been; warriors who needed to be able to hop into action at any moment. She had also never feared assassins or kidnappers coming for her at night. Her parents had _always_ kept them safe.

Yeah, always; even unintentionally, like sending them away for a mini-vacation with Uncle Cheryl before…

Before _the thing_ happened.

In contrast, the twins slept like frickin’ toppled logs. Always.

That’s why Rain, and only Rain, heard the window of Uncle Cheryl’s guest bedroom open.

She knew better than to bolt right up, trained warrior or not. If she and her siblings were about to be attacked, she had to at least _try_ to take this motherfucker by surprise.

Even if she was completely drained dry by the funeral and burial earlier that evening, she still had to try.

She was the eldest, and had to be brave.

She had to make her parents proud, even if they were dead.

Much to Rain’s advantage, she was already facing the direction of the window from where she lay. All she had to do was slowly open her eyes and assess the situation.

She could see a silhouette, backlit by the still-open window. From the height and broadness of the chest and shoulders, she’d guess a masc. Could be a well-built femme, though. Even with a looming threat, she still wanted to mentally stay steadfast to her commitment to be polite and not assume such things.

He (or she?) stepped closer all of a sudden. Rain visibly tensed. _Damn_.

“Rain?”

A whisper, in a voice she—

_Oh my god._

“ _Mom_?” she choked out, barely maintaining a whisper herself.

Caution forgotten, Rain jolted off the bed and bounded into the figure of her _not_ -dead bearer. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she took in his features. The two scars bisecting his face were new, and his hair seemed far whiter as it glowed in the moonlight, but he was _definitely_ Mom.

Muffled gurgles against his chest were all Rain could manage for now. Her ability to form coherent words had bid her goodbye before evaporating completely. His hand rubbed her back as he embraced her, and she outright started to sob.

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly, mournfully, “and I don’t think there’ll ever be words for _how_ sorry I am, kiddo.”

Rain tried to ask a pertinent question like _why?_ or _how?_ or _what?_ but all that came out was more incoherent nonsense. Mom seemed to understand the intent.

“We were betrayed, and I don’t know by whom. Not yet.” He hugged her tight before pulling away and making eye contact with her. “I need you to do something very, very important for me, okay?”

Under other circumstances, she might’ve said “okay” right away. What came out instead was, “where’s Dad?”

The sharp pain and intake of breath gave away the answer, even before Mom said what Rain didn’t want to hear. “He’s . . . gone, sweetie. He really is gone.”

Rain cried fresh tears as her twin siblings blissfully slept on.

“Everyone needs to think I’m gone, too, okay?” he continued. “You can’t tell anyone that I’m still alive. If the people who attacked us knew that, they might come after you.” He paused, and Rain could see fear clearly on his face. “They might come after you, anyway. Don’t trust anyone except for Cheryl and Gran and _Tia_ Carmen, okay? Tell Moira and Miguel the same, and always look out for them.” He embraced her again. “If I thought staying with you guys would keep you safe, I would.”

Mom was . . . leaving?

 “Please stay,” Rain croaked out.

“I can’t, baby.” He pulled back again with the saddest eyes Rain had ever seen. “I wish I could.”

Her hands desperately latched on to his arms. “ _No_.”

Mom took her hands in his. “I’ll promise you something. When the bad guys are gone, I’ll come back.”

Rain said nothing, but inwardly she seized this promise with every tendril of hope she had.

Her silence must have made him nervous, because Mom bit his lip and seemed to come to a decision about something. “I’ll . . . send you messages, when I can. Just don’t put any number from me under a contact on your phone, okay? Erase them.”

Rain nodded. It wasn’t all that she wanted, but anything was better than a bleak world with two dead parents.

Mom looked as though he might cry at any moment as he embraced her one last time.

“Stay safe. Keep the twins safe. I love you.”

That was the last time Rain Reyes-Morrison saw her mother in person.

Rain Reyes-Morrison, sixteen years old, with a mission and a promise, had no choice but to grow up fast.

\---

The Mist had a very simple objective: follow the Beloved.

It followed Beloved to the big tree, with thick foliage perfect for the Mist to hide in.

Beloved was watching the Little Ones. The Mist watched the Little Ones, too.

The Mist felt _strong emotions_ as the Little Ones wailed.

Beloved, at a distance, followed the Little Ones home as the sky blackened.

The Mist, at a distance, followed Beloved.

The Mist hid in the dark as Beloved held the Oldest Little One and made a promise.

The Mist made a promise, too, but it couldn’t keep the promise as a mist.

New objective: **_coalesce_**.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, a few things:
> 
> This isn't gonna be one of those fics that infodumps at you right off the bat. The structure of this universe, and how it differs from the one we know, will be revealed as the story progresses. If something doesn't make sense now, I promise it will later. ;)
> 
> My update schedule might be chaotic. I apologize in advance.
> 
> I'm not planning on tagging every single aspect of this story. If you really hate the possibility of uncomfortable surprises, then you might wanna bow out.


End file.
